


Song of Songs

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Agender Character, Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Genderfluid Character, Multi, Religious Conflict, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-03 11:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: Sex was weird. Crowley had watched the humans fling at each other for centuries now. Kissing. Caressing. Loving. Sometimes it made a whole other human, sometimes it didn't. Angels didn't do that. Neither did demons. He shouldn't want to do it either.But it did look kind of fun.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a Garden, and surrounding the Garden was a Wall, and standing on top of that Wall were nearly two dozen Angels staring down into the foliage in rapt fascination. Down below, on a bed of verdant grass, the two humans – barely a few days old – were thrashing against each other. Eve lifted her hips only to crash back down on top of Adam, to his utter delight if the sounds he was making were any indication. 

Samyaza braced his hands against his knees and leaned forward to get a closer look. He heard more than saw Mastema come up beside him. “I don’t get it.” 

“They’re having sex,” Samyaza said. At least, that’s what Lucifer had called it. 

“But what’s the point? What is it meant to do?” Mastema cocked his head. “It just looks silly to me.” 

“I think it looks fun.” Samyaza turned to look behind him, down to where Aziraphale stood guard. “Hey, come on up! You’re going to miss it! They’re having sex! And-- oh, it’s over. I thought it would last longer than that. Oh, wait! It’s starting again! Now they’re using their mouths?” 

Aziraphale pointed his flaming sword at him. “Get down at once! None of you are supposed to be up there! And-- and for God’s sake, leave the humans alone! It’s supposed to be _ private_.” 

“What is?” 

“The sex!” 

Samyaza looked back at the two humans. “I don’t think they care.” 

“If you don’t get down, I’ll... well, I’ll just toss you off!” 

The threat was enough to divert Samyaza’s attention once more. He grinned down at the increasingly flustered guardian. “Really? You would? But what if we got hurt?” 

For a brief moment a flash of guilt and horror fell over his eyes, only to narrow again. “You have _ wings_!” 

Samyaza let out a laugh, only for it to get tangled up in his throat when he heard the voice of Michael. “He’s right. You shouldn’t be here.” 

Samyaza straightened immediately. There was Michael, and behind him was Lucifer. Mastema and the other angels, of course, were nowhere to be seen, _ the traitors_. He wondered if Michael had ever laughed. From the disapproving sneer on the archangel’s face, Samyaza would guess not. 

It was Lucifer, though, that commanded his attention. “Sex is many things,” he said softly, his voice low and deep and if Samyaza didn’t know any better he thought it sounded sad. “It’s procreation. It’s recreation. It’s an affirmation of love. None of those things are meant for angels.” 

Michael nodded. “We were made to serve. What the humans do is God’s business. Now, get back to your duties.” 

* * *

Crawly sat on a rock, his chin in his hands, and watched as Adam lifted up his stone knife. He cut into the throat of a white bull and raised his head to say, “Please, accept this offering for the sin I committed! Have mercy on your people!” His sons stood behind him, their bodies wrapped in the tanned hides of animals, their faces downcast. 

Crawly thought it a waste time. No amount of apologizing would make God change Her mind. He tried that already. Besides, if you asked him, God had overreacted. Honestly, God should be the one apologizing to _ them_. And, anyway, Eve wouldn’t have taken the apple if Crawly hadn’t suggested it, so really, it wasn’t even their fault. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! All he did was ask a few questions! And maybe, sort of, help instigate a rebellion. But the rebellion would have never happened if God was just a little more fair! Why couldn’t angels have fun and dance and play and have sex? Why was it wrong for the humans to know the difference between good and evil? Why did God punish them for breaking the rules without ever telling them why the rules were there in the first place? Maybe if he’d just known _ why_, he wouldn’t have done it. 

In a fit of anger, Crawly tore at the black robe that enshrouded his body. _ And why, of all things, was nakedness a sin_? So, Adam and Eve take a couple of bites out of an apple and then all of a sudden they’re sticking leaves to their bits. Why? What was the point of it? 

Crawly scrambled over to a small, shallow pool nestled between some rocks and a few shrubs. He stared at himself, at the cock hanging between his legs. He turned to get another angle, his fingers scratching at a patch of dry skin on his shoulder. He frowned and twisted, trying to get a look at his backside, his skin cracking with each movement, slipping from his body as he shed the form he was wearing. A sheath of dead skin lay in a pile at his feet. His body had changed. There were breasts now and his cock was gone. She still didn’t get it. No matter what form she took, she didn’t see anything sinful about the human body. 

“Oh, I—I'm sorry. I didn’t--” 

Crawly turned and saw one of Adam’s sons standing by the pool. Cain. That was his name. He tried to keep his eyes on the ground, clearly embarrassed, but Crawly could see him sneaking glances at her bare flesh, his eyes roving over all the parts that were supposed to be covered. 

He looked so earnest, so contrite. He kind of reminded Crawly of Aziraphale. A sudden fit of longing struck her in the chest. She missed Heaven. She missed her friends. Lucifer and Mastema and all the others... they weren’t the same anymore. They had grown so angry and hateful that they had started to change. Goat horns were beginning to sprout from Lucifer’s head and there always seemed to be a cloud of flies hanging around Mastema. But then, hadn’t she changed too? _ Crawly_, they called her, and with good reason. 

She turned her head, hoping that Cain hadn’t noticed her eyes. 

Cain snuck another glance. “We... we thought we were the only ones. My parents, my brother, and me. Here, take this,” He offered her one of the hides he wore. He stood there, bare-chested and in only a loincloth, his hand held out to her. 

She took the hide and pressed it to her chest, her head tilted downward so that her hair could veil her eyes. “I don’t understand why I need it.” 

“Well, it’s a sin.” 

“Why is it a sin?” 

“Because... because it causes his impure thoughts.” 

"What kind of thoughts?” 

Cain let out a huff. Crawley wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a sigh. “You ask a lot of questions.” He looked at the rocks, at the bushes, everywhere except her. “It... it makes me think... I mean, you’re beautiful. Too beautiful, and... and I’d like to... know you. Intimately.” 

Sex. He was talking about sex. Sex was impure? That wasn’t what Lucifer said (not that you could trust anything that Lucifer said)… But then, why would God command the humans to have sex if it was impure? Crawly scowled. Another stupid rule that didn’t make any sense. 

Crawly dropped the hide and turned away. “Oh. I’m sorry, but I don’t really want to know you. Not any kind of way. Your brother, though...” Crawly smiled over her shoulder. 

Cain looked like he had been punched in the gut. “My brother?” 

“Abel is a very handsome man. How I long to be his wife.” Crawly clasped her hands together and tried to go for a look of complete adoration, the kind she had seen on Eve’s face whenever she looked at Adam. 

The look of jealousy that tore at Cain’s face was delicious. Crawly had seen that look on Lucifer’s face so many times before the Fall. Wasn’t it just awful to realize that the person you loved, loved someone else more? It was about time the humans got to experience that for themselves. 

Crawly tore her gaze away from Cain’s face, suddenly unable to stand the sight anymore. She left him by the pool and gathered up her robe. She wrapped it tightly around her body, but something felt... off. It was like her robe had suddenly become translucent. She still felt naked, no matter how many layers she covered herself in. Everyone could see her.

God could still see her.


	2. Uruk

There was a great crack, like thunder rolling, when Cain’s club crashed into his brother’s skull. Crawly was showered with praise from her demonic brethren for ushering in the world’s first murder. Crawly accepted the accolades and tried not to think too much about it. 

As the years passed, the humans made more humans. Then figured out that if you stuck a seed into the ground, it would grow into a plant. They also, for some strange, unfathomable reason, learned to pull on a cow’s udders for milk. Crawly was not there when the first human tried that little experiment, for which she was glad. 

What she did enjoy were _ villages_. They were so many interesting things to see and do in villages. She hadn’t realized just how bored she was with watching them chase their goats over hills and valleys. Crawly browsed the market stalls, examining the beaded jewelry and clay pots that were for sale. She picked up a pair of gold earrings and handed the vendor a couple of seashells she had scratched some pictures on. 

The man looked down at the assortment of junk in his hand, his face torn between confusion and anger. “What’s this?” He demanded. 

“It’s money,” Crawly explained. “A sssymbolic represssentation of my supposssed wealth.” There was an unearthly quality to her words that gave them a sense of power. They took root in the furrows of the man’s mind, feeding on his greed. He accepted the seashells and thanked her for her patronage. Crawly grinned as she fastened the earrings. If the boys downstairs liked that... that thing with Cain, just wait until they heard about money. The humans will end up driving themselves to madness over a bunch of stupid, worthless seashells. Crawly admired her reflection in the polished back of a silver bowl, liking the way the gold glinted between the red of her curls. 

She stopped her preening when she noticed a very familiar face in the bowl’s reflection. She turned around and watched as Aziraphale paced up and down in front of a bakery, his face wrought with guilt as he stared at the loaves of bread on display. Now what could an angel possibly feel guilty about? Crawly moved silently through the throng of people and was rewarded when Aziraphale gave a very satisfying little squeal at her sudden appearance at his side. The jump was pretty funny too. What was less funny was the way he took several steps back, his shoulders tense, his expression... no, she didn't like that one bit.

“Now, I won’t tolerate any trouble from you!” He said. 

“Trouble?” She asked. Oh. He must have heard about the Cain Thing. Of course. “Not to worry, angel. I’m on vacation.” 

He relaxed, if only a fraction. There was still that wary look in his eyes. “Yes, well, in that case I best be--” 

“What were you looking at?” Crawly interrupted. She wasn't ready for this conversation to end. 

“Just...” He waved his arm at the rack of crisp, freshly baked bread. “It smells so... I don’t know how to describe it. Have you... have you ever _ indulged_?” 

Crawly wrinkled her nose. “I've never eaten, no. What am I supposed to do with it once I swallow it? Let it just sit in my stomach for eternity?” 

“The humans--” 

“I know what the humans do and I am not doing _ that_.” 

“I suppose we could just vanish it away,” Aziraphale said. 

Crawly smiled at him. “We? Are you thinking of indulging then? I’ve been told gluttony is a sin.” 

Aziraphale looked scandalized. “I am not gluttonous!” 

“You want to eat bread, even knowing that you have no need for it. Is that not the height of gluttony?” 

The smile slipped from Crawly’s face as she watched the torturous emotions flit across Aziraphale’s face. That horrible, wretched guilt twisting his features left her reeling. She hadn’t meant to cause pain. “Of course, you could always just will the bread back into existence. No harm, no foul. It might even be good for you, to experience things as a human would. All the better to thwart the temptations of my kind,” she said. 

The guilt slowly seeped from his face, but his eyes had turned suspicious. “How do I know you’re not tempting me now? Bread instead of apples? And there was that murder--” 

“I didn’t murder anyone!” Crawly snapped. “I never told Cain to kill his brother and even if I did he didn’t have to listen to me! God gave the humans Free Will, he could have freely willed not to smash his club into Abel’s face!” 

There was silence. Crawly refused to look at the angel. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of seashells, which the baker gladly accepted. There was a warm loaf of bread in her hands. She didn’t know where to start. Obviously, she had to put the thing into her mouth, and then chew, and finally swallow. But was she supposed to break off a piece or just bite into it? “Would you like a piece?” She asked. She risked a quick glance at the angel. 

“That would be lovely, thank you.” 

She handed the loaf to Aziraphale, who broke it in half. Crawly watched him take a bite of his share, copying his movements. It felt flakey and weirdly spongey and when she swallowed it sat heavy in her middle. She didn’t like it, but the look on Aziraphale’s face was rapturous. She’d seen humans make similar expressions before. Usually right before an orgasm. Crawly let out a laugh. 

Aziraphale shot her another suspicious look, but instead of commenting on it, he asked, “What was it that you gave that woman?” 

“Money! A symbol that has no intrinsic value but is nonetheless used as a representation of goods and wealth. It’s my greatest invention, if I do say so myself.” 

Aziraphale shook his head. “It will never catch on.” 

“Do you want to make a bet on it?” Crawly struggled to chew what was left of her bread. “My mouth feels so dry. Shall we try wine next? What do you say, angel? Buy me a drink? I’ll loan you the money.” 

“Oh, no, I think I’ve waded far enough into treacherous waters,” he said, stepping back again. “But... thank you for the bread.” Then he was gone. Practically _ fleeing_. 

Crawly vanished the bread from her stomach, but the heavy feeling remained. 

* * *

Her little village grew and grew until it became a proper city. And it was most certainly _ hers_. 

It was Mastema’s idea, originally. Or, she should say, Ba’al Zebub. What better way to damn the humans then to masquerade as false gods? So, Ba’al Zebub created a temple to himself, and Crawly did the same, only hers was much more popular. Posing as a goddess of love certainly helped. 

The Temple of Ashtoreth was the crown jewel of the city of Uruk. Towering columns, mosaics lined with lapis lazuli, alabaster statues carved in Crawly’s image. Oh, and the sex. The sex was just everywhere. It amused Crawly to see the humans “worship.” She sat on her throne as they went at it, and occasionally she would wave her hand and make them fertile. They would come back to her temple, their happy, healthy babes bouncing in their arms as they thanked her for all that she had done. It was a pretty cushy job. 

Or it had been, until the humans started to complain about their king. King Gilgamesh was taking men off the streets and forcing them to work on the construction of his new palace for little food and no pay. Crawly wasn’t too keen on this slavery business. She hadn’t taken the time to invent money only for the humans to not pay their workers with it. And unlike God, she didn’t allow prayers to go unanswered. 

It was the day of her festival. Her priests carried her throne across the forum and Crawly waved at the adoring crowd. Behind her was a white bull, a sacrifice for the sins her people had committed. It was customary for the king to make the sacrifice on behalf of the entire city. Crawly couldn’t wait for the moment. She had plans for Gilgamesh... 

Which were immediately thrown out the window when she saw who was standing beside him. “Azir--” She started to say, only to be interrupted by the angel. 

“Enkidu,” he corrected. 

“What are you doing with him?” Crawly demanded. “He’s the sort you’re supposed to smite!” 

“I'm not really a smiter. And, anyway, he’s recanted his ways and freed his slaves.” 

“And that makes it alright? Will that bring back the men who died from starvation and whippings?” 

“God will decide his judgment.” 

“So will I,” Crawly growled. 

Aziraphale shook his head. “You are _ damning _ these poor people! You are turning them away from God!” 

“And what has God done for them? When they come to my temple, I, at least, answer their prayers!” 

Aziraphale’s pink, cherubic cheeks turned several shades of red. “Your temple is a den of vice!” 

“Love is not a vice!” Crawly insisted. 

“You are a demon!” Aziraphale shouted back. “You cannot love!” 

Gilgamesh stepped forward and addressed the people assembled there. “Do not listen to this demon! She is no god! She is a battering ram that destroys the walls of this city! She is a knife that cuts the hands of those who wield it! Come, tell us the tale of Eve who lamented the long years of her life spent in hunger and isolation. Tell us of Cain who was poisoned by the words that spilled from your forked tongue. Is this how you love and will Uruk share in their fate?” 

Distantly, Crawly was struck by the irony of the situation. She had betrayed God, and now she too was betrayed by her own people. Worse still, the things Aziraphale had said, of the secrets he had spilled to this... this _ human_. Crawly vanished the bull’s nose-rope and leapt from her throne. At once, the bull made a mad dash for freedom, its large body knocking to the ground any human who dared to stand in its way. Between the cries and screams, there was a flash of bronze as Gilgamesh brought down his sword and cleaved the bull’s neck in two. 

Crawly looked down at the snow-white carcass, now steeped in red. She realized she didn’t much care for sacrifices. Why should an innocent creature be slaughtered for the sins of others? She would later find herself thinking the same thing during the Flood and after, at Golgotha. “Mourn it,” she commanded her worshippers– the courtesans, the prostitutes, and the harlots of Uruk. “It didn’t do anything wrong.” She refused to look at Aziraphale. Refused to give him the satisfaction. He could tell Heaven all about how he defeated that wily serprent without her letting him know just how deeply his words had cut her. Because he was right. She wasn’t a god, or an angel, or even a human. She was a demon. 

Crawly stripped herself of her robe and her skin too, reverting to his original form as he wandered out into the desert. 


End file.
